


She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

by vallraining



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And I mean Really Slow Burn, Bisexual Allura (Voltron), F/F, Fluff, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Romelle (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Slow Burn, This is so gay Alexa play Hayley Kiyoko, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Romelle (Voltron), Useless Lesbians, beauty guru shiro because fucking why not, big buff gorl and her sailor moon gf, flower symbolism that rivals ohshc, look all of the side characters are main characters PLOT TWIST AHAHAH
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-08 21:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vallraining/pseuds/vallraining
Summary: -Will not be updated.-“She loves me,” Romelle says, completely unaware of what she’s doing. Another wilting petal catches her eye, and she pulls at that one too. “She loves me not.”This is a habit. It’s a silly little mantra she’s been repeating to herself in hushed voices ever since she started her first garden at six. Although it had beenhewho did or did not love Romelle at the time, that changed as soon as she entered middle school and discovered Emma Watson for the first time. And the habit stuck, and now more often than not she’s whispering those words as she tends to the flowers in her shop.~In which Romelle is head over heels for the tattoo artist that works down the street, and Allura finds a much-needed hand to hold in the owner of the florist shop she passes on her way to work. Both girls learn there's more to love than just flowers.{Based onthiscomic bymomozerii.}





	She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [momozerii](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=momozerii).



> OH MY GOD I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FIC FOREVERRRRRR
> 
> this is finally up. oh my god. i literally started it THE DAY momozerii posted the comic this is based on and i'm just now uploading. the reason i took so long is because i wanted get more than just the first chapter done and make sure i didn't lose interest right away. if you've been following me you know i never finish series (rip sugar storm and dotu, aka the only things people follow me for) but this is up now!! and i intend on seeing it through until the end. which shouldn't be hard, given that romelle is verrrryyy close to surpassing pidge as my favorite vld character.
> 
> but anyway it's up!! i gotta thank everyone who beta'd, read chunks of this fic in its early stages and sat with me through sprints, which are my discord ladies [ciitadel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciitadel/pseuds/Ciitadel), [Viv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viraseii/pseuds/viraseii/), [Yui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuisaki/pseuds/Yuisaki/), and [Star](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofStarlight/pseuds/QueenofStarlight/), as well as my new buds [Levi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grump_ass/) and [Em](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmpwolf462/pseuds/fmpwolf462). and thanks to momo who was very patient and dealt with me dmming her nonstop on instagram about this for a month. that'll be over now.
> 
> i sound like i'm hyping this up way too much?? i probably am, i'm just waaaay excited to finally have this online.
> 
> i hope you have as much fun reading this fic as i did writing it! ♡
> 
> \- ellie

Mornings have always been Romelle’s favorite.

She’s an early bird, and has been since she was little. It’s the reason she’s up at the crack of dawn every morning, sitting on her balcony watching the sunrise and sipping a cup of earl grey tea. That, and because she’s a literal Disney princess, and Disney princesses do things like watch the sun rise and hum along with the birds outside. The little girl who lives in the apartment next door calls her “Rapunzel” more than she does Romelle’s actual name.

When the tea is finished, she’ll put some music on and weave her hair into some sort of braid crown (possibly with fun-colored bobby pins,) put the well-loved mug back in the sink, and be too tired to have anything for breakfast other than two-ish strawberry Pop-Tarts.

She’ll read Rupi Kaur, she’ll sing, she’ll try (and fail) to get her rabbit Alice on a leash, or she’ll chat with friends in other time zones. She’ll try to cook something other than strawberry Pop-Tarts, and only rarely will she set off the fire alarm. She’ll waste time on the internet or fully immersed in Animal Crossing. One way or another, Romelle does her best to keep busy outside the workplace. 

Romelle heads in early every morning, and always opens about thirty minutes before the official schedule starts. There’s no reason for her to; no one stops by the florist at eight thirty in the morning, but preening rose bushes is far less boring than being locked in an apartment, and she can only get away with keeping the door open and letting the breeze in early in the morning when it isn’t one trillion degrees outside.

Nine is when Shay and Hunk arrive together, more or less. Six months earlier, Hunk would have lingered outside the door and walked in ten or fifteen minutes after Shay to try and hide the fact that he’d just spent the night in her apartment, or vice versa. Pidge and Romelle, however, were not stupid, and after the ONE time Pidge came to work early and caught them, they gave up trying to hide it. This particular morning they come in hand in hand, and Romelle’s heart does a flippy thing when she realizes they’ve color-coordinated their outfits; the yellow of Hunk’s shirt is the exact same as that of Shay’s sundress. 

The two of them do things like that a lot- match their clothes and lock screens and surprise each other with simple gifts, only to find out the other got them the exact same thing. It’s so cute, it’s almost gross. 

Pidge thinks so, at least- their demi ass is “disgusted” (note the quotation marks) by anything even slightly romantic. Romelle, however, is the exact opposite, and cries every time she watches The Notebook. On movie nights, she picks romcoms, every single time. Pidge gets bored of the cliche and repetitive storylines in minutes (unless they’re watching something along the lines of Love Simon or The Way He Looks. If that’s the case, they’re completely emotionally invested in the plot.)

“You two,” Romelle begins as the couple walks up to greet her, a huge grin on her face. “Are the cutest human beings I think I’ve ever seen.”

“Awwww, Romelle!” Hunk, the big marshmallow that he is, throws himself at Romelle and wraps his arms around her tiny frame. She lets out a surprised squeak, and Shay laughs.

“Okay, don’t squish her, love,” she says, tugging at Hunk’s arm.

“Agh- I’m sorry. I just got excited.” The apologetic look he gives Romelle makes her snort. “I’ll go ahead and open up. I mean, unless you-”

“-yes I put the open sign up a half an hour early.”

“Okay cool.”

Hunk goes to busy himself with something else, deciding on giving the hanging plants their morning mist. Shay and Romelle linger near the back counter where the registers are, adjusting the little trinkets and greeting cards on the shelves nearby. Romelle goes down the line of plants on the counter, tending to each one. She tips her water bottle into a lucky bamboo plant and plucks a brown petal from a carnation in a vase.

“She loves me,” Romelle says, completely unaware of what she’s doing. Another wilting petal catches her eye, and she pulls at that one too. “She loves me not.”

This is a habit. It’s a silly little mantra she’s been repeating to herself in hushed voices ever since she started her first garden at six. Although it had been _he_ who did or did not love Romelle at the time; that changed soon after she entered middle school and discovered Emma Watson for the first time. And the debatably troublesome habit stuck, and now more often than not she’s whispering those words as she tends to the flowers in her shop.

She continues to pluck petal after petal until Shay flicks her forehead, which causes her to jump in surprise. The other snorts.

“At this rate, there will not be any flowers left in a few minutes,” Shay teases. Romelle blinks in confusion.

“Was I doing the thing again?” She asks, and Shay nods with a small smirk. Romelle smacks her hands over her face.

_”Fucccckkk!”_ She groans. There’s a horrified gasp from across the room, and Romelle shoots Hunk a look before he can mention the swear jar.

Romelle throws her hands up in the air and groans, “I can’t help it, Shay, I’m a lovesick idiot! You know I’m a hopeless romantic!” She cries, and Shay pats her shoulder. “Plus, you and Hunk are adorable, which doesn’t help!”

Shay shrugs. “There is a girl out there for you, you just have to find her,” she says. Romelle’s eyes roll up to the ceiling and she lets out another long groan, making her friend giggle again.

“Alright, fine, I’ll leave you here to be a useless lesbian. I gotta go make sure Hunk doesn’t drown any more succulents.” Shay gives her a half hug, then wanders over to the other side of the store.

When Romelle turns to look, Hunk is dumping a ridiculous amount of water into a poor cactus’ pot. Shay is cringing, waving her arms back and forth in an attempt to stop him, and the sight would be so absurd to anyone on the outside that it makes Romelle stop what she’s doing for a brief moment and break out into a giggling fit. It’s funny, although watching the two of them bicker has always made Romelle feel a little bit lonely, so she’s thankful when Pidge walks through the front door and draws the trio’s attention elsewhere.

They’re yawning as they saunter inside, hair awry and glasses askew. Pidge stretches their arms out to their sides, momentarily glances around the store to make sure there aren’t any customers inside, and then proceeds to yell out “It is Wednesday, my dudes!”

Hunk just shakes his head. “Pidge, it’s not even-”

“AAAAAAAAAH!” Shay cuts him off a loud yell, and Romelle finds herself doubling over with laughter yet again. While Shay may not understand memes, she likes being included. Pidge gives her a high five as they step further inside.

“Morning, Pidgey,” Romelle chirps, giving them a small wave. They skip up to the counter to grab themself an apron, seemingly full of energy despite the bags under their eyes. Which of course means that their blood-espresso level is far above the legal limit.

“Morning Rapunzel,” they say. Pidge, the night owl that they are, typically comes in later than everyone else. Today’s nine-fifteen is early enough to raise some concern. From what Romelle can infer, Pidge hadn’t gotten a moment’s rest last night, and upon closer inspection, she notices that the circles around their eyes are darker than usual.

Romelle raises an eyebrow. “You look like absolute shit,” she says, reaching out to fix the other’s glasses. “Which was it, horror marathon or calc homework?” Pidge shrugs, letting out a hesitant noise, and Romelle gets the message. “‘Kay. Horror, then.” 

They scoff, slapping their hand over their chest and letting out a mock offended gasp. “Hey, Soursalt is _fucking good_.” Pidge replies, then folds their arms. “Plus it’s ending soon, and I wanna get caught up before then so I can cry with everyone on Tumblr and not be late to the party.” Romelle, not having understood any of that, just shakes her head.

“Well, you need sleep and a higher homework percentage if you actually want to pass.” Her reply comes out more bitter than she intends it to, but Pidge doesn’t seem to notice, more focused on struggling with their apron than what Romelle is saying. Romelle has to spin Pidge around and tie the ribbon herself.

This is a typical morning, all part of the routine. Next is when people start to wander in. There’s a man who’s stopped by every day for the past year to buy a single rose for his wife. There are teenage boys who awkwardly come in and buy flowers for their crushes, and little girls who want to smell and touch every plant in the building. There’s a nearby aquarium employee that stops by every few days with big jugs of water, since the bacteria in the old tank water is good for plants. 

Chatting with customers and tending to the plants is surprisingly relaxing; there’s something about a florist shop that just puts people in a good mood. There’s never any drama, and people always leave with smiles on their faces.

It’s a quaint little store with natural lighting, soft music, a colorful and lush interior, and a heavenly smell. Altea Florist is Romelle’s pride and joy, and she’s proud of the serene atmosphere of her store.

It’s jarring when that calm is suddenly broken. Romelle is watering a plant, minding her own business, when the chime of a bell pulls her out of her daydream and a _literal goddess_ walks through the front door.

Romelle, a disaster lesbian, almost drops the pot of bleeding hearts she’s carrying under her free arm. The woman hurries further into the store and looks around, a curious glint in her eye and a pout on her lip. She has shockingly white hair that’s pulled up into a bun on her head and spilling out in soft waves that frame her face. She’s got bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, and tattoos scattered across her dark umber skin. She’s sporting full sleeves of tattoos on both arms, a huge lion’s head and flowers on her left and constellations cascading down her right. Romelle can see more patterns peeking through the side of her muscle tee that she can’t make out the shape of, too. Her leggings are the same shade of pink as the highlight dusted on her cheeks and blended softly around her eyes. Also, she’s buff as fuck, so that’s cool. 

Romelle, too dumbfounded to think of anything else, reaches over to Pidge and begins tapping their shoulder frantically. “Pidge. Pidge. Pidge look. Pidgey. Pidgeotto. Pid-”

“What, what?” Pidge swats her arm away. “Why are you-”

“Hot girl, Pidge-”

“WHERE?”

Romelle grabs her friend by the shoulders and whips them around so they’re facing the beautiful stranger. They squint for a moment, half-asleep and a little disoriented from being swung around so suddenly, but when their gaze finally falls on the woman their eyes widen (gay) and their jaw almost hits the floor (super gay). Pidge stares for a moment, then wolf whistles only loud enough that Romelle can hear, and she smacks her hand over their mouth. 

Pidge just pulls it away. “You,” she begins. “Are talking to her.”

“No,I am fucking _not_!” Romelle snaps, jabbing Pidge in the stomach so they’ll stay quiet. They squeak in fear, arms curling around their body, then straighten back up with a pout.

“Yes, you are. You definitely are,” they say. “Right now. If you're gonna have that much of a freak out over a pretty girl, you can't just say nothing to her.”

Romelle is about to open her mouth and protest when Pidge’s eyes suddenly widen again, and a laugh barely escapes their lips. They jerk their head slightly to the left, and Romelle just stares at them in confused silence until she realizes they're signaling for her to turn around. 

Romelle’s heart stops as she has the realization that _holy fuck the pretty white haired girl is standing right behind me_ , and she swallows. She shoots them a “please tell me you’re joking” look and Pidge just cringes slightly, then motions once more. 

Romelle turns around and sure enough, actual goddess woman is standing right there, arms folded awkwardly over her chest and a tight-lipped smile on her face.

If Romelle’s cheeks weren't on fire already, they certainly are now.

“I’m- I do apologize if I’m interrupting,” she begins rather hurriedly. Romelle shakes her head furiously and when Pidge barks out a laugh, she stomps on their foot. “I just need help choosing a bouquet.”

“Ohhh, bouquets? Romelle here is suuuper good with those!” Pidge says with a wide grin, giving their friend a firm pat on the shoulder. “Hey, you should help this woman out, huh?”

Romelle sputters. “Wh- um-”

“While you do that, I’m going on break. See ya!” 

Romelle’s eyes widen as Pidge shoves her forward, and had she not bumped against the counter, Romelle would have collided with the stranger. Before she even has the opportunity to process what just happened, Pidge snickers, and then is out of sight. 

Romelle blinks, dumbfounded. _That little gremlin!_

She is getting back at them for this. Somehow. Later. Right now, her number one priority is to not have a gay panic in front of this poor woman, who’s started bouncing on one foot impatiently.

Romelle clears her throat, attempting to regain her bearings. “I’m- um- I’m sorry about them, we were just- talking about a thing that we- uhhh...” she motions wildly with her hands, struggling to string words together, and the woman raises an eyebrow. Fuck. “Never mind. You need help picking out flowers? I can help with that.”

Apparently, Romelle isn’t too awkward because the other softly laughs, and it’s like music to her ears. That combined with the way her eyes crease when she smiles is just too much. She hasn’t even known this woman for a minute and she is absolutely screwed. 

“Don’t worry, my friends are the same way. They tease me for the silliest of things,” the woman replies, and Romelle begins nodding profusely. Her eyes flicker from Romelle to a flower display to the right of her, and she takes a step in that direction, and Romelle dumbly follows as she begins to thumb at a rose petal.

“I need something that’s romantic, but not _too_ romantic…” She says, then reaches for a different flower. “Something that says ‘I like you and I actually put thought into these flowers’ but isn’t as extravagant as a dozen roses- you know? Something you’d give on a third date. And- preferably blue.”

Romelle spends a moment too long dwelling on the word “romantic” before it hits her that she actually needs to reply, and she’s absolutely been staring. She shakes her head, giving herself a mental jab in the side. 

_Romantic. Okay._ Damn, is this girl taken? 

She’s already getting ahead of herself.

“Well, the most common ‘romantic’ color for flowers is pink or red, though soft purples or yellows would work as well. Or white, but white flowers are popular for weddings, and that isn’t what you’re going for,” Romelle begins, and the woman hums. “Blue violets- well, they’re more violet than blue -might work. They usually symbolize strong feelings of love or devotion, but you’ll be fine if you just give this person a small bunch I think.” She reaches over to pluck one of the aforementioned flowers from a bouquet and hands it to the woman, who inspects it carefully. “We couldn’t pair it with anything white- like I said, it would look too much like a wedding bouquet. But maybe with something a richer purple?”

“It is very pretty…” she says, although Romelle can tell she’s not too fond of the choice. “It just smells… dry? Sweet, but dry.”

Romelle nods, smiling. “Mmhm, Violets are weird like that. They smell very sweet, but they’ll switch between smelling very strong and like nothing at all in seconds, because of this stuff called ionone-”

“Wait- what are these?” The woman cuts Romelle off mid-sentence and picks up a smaller bouquet of pink flowers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off, I just…” She trails off. “I’m in a hurry.” There's a glimmer of awe in her eye as she inspects the bundle, turning it over in her hand and tracing the patterns on each petal with her thumb. 

“Oh! Those are Juniberries- they don't grow anywhere near here, which is why you don't recognize them. They were just imported,” Romelle explains. The woman ‘oooh’s, and Romelle’s lips quirk up into a small smile. The stranger is cuter when she’s excited and has Romelle’s stomach doing acrobatics. “They’re suuuuper pretty, aren't they? They’re my personal favorite. I have like, four vases at home.”

“Hm. How much for two of these?” She asks, looking back to Romelle. The curve of her lips practically makes the blonde woman melt. 

“Wh- oh, um.” Two bouquets? Why two? “Those would be 25 dollars each, but I can give you both for 40.”

“Perfect.” She's so eager that Romelle hasn't even walked back over to the counter before the woman is thrusting a hand full of cash in her direction and saying “just keep the change.” 

Romelle takes the money, blinking in surprise. “I think this is too much, actually-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I really cannot stay much longer. Work, you know. I’m very busy,” the woman says, waving the bouquet around for emphasis. By the time she’s finished the sentence, she’s halfway out the door. “I wish I could stay and chat, but- I’m sorry, bye!” And then she’s gone as quickly as she’d come, and the store slips back into its peaceful silence.

What on _Earth_ had just happened?

Romelle stares dumbfounded as the door sways on its hinges, the tittering of the birds outside like distant laughter poking fun at her for her confusion. Slowly, it turns back inwards and settles into the frame with a soft click, and only then is Romelle able to regain her composure.

Later, she’ll be thankful that it’s a slow day and there are very few people in the shop, because as soon as she's able to, she turns to her co-workers, eyes wide, and says “I am so fucking gay.”

It’s so blunt that Pidge immediately busts out into a fit of laughter, and even Shay and Hunk are stifling laughter. Romelle smacks a hand over her mouth, face darkening as she realizes what she’s just said.

“Hey! Not funny!” She sputters, folding her arms and pouting. This makes Hunk laugh harder, and he shakes his head. “Well, kind of funny, but still!”

“It is funny! That was adorable!” He says, walking over to squeeze Romelle half to death for the second time that morning. “Oh my god- did you see the way she was looking at you? She totally likes you, Romelle! Did you get her name?”

She huffs. “No, I didn’t get her name. And even if I had, she was buying flowers for someone. As a romantic gesture, meaning I wouldn’t have much of a chance anyways,” Romelle explains, then pauses. “Plus, it is entirely possible that she’s straight.”

Pidge coughs. “Romelle, no straight woman has biceps like that,” they point out.

“That’s… fair.”

“As a straight woman, I can confirm this,” Shay cuts in. “But really. You were too busy having a gay panic to notice she was making heart eyes at you.”

“It’s true. My gaydar was- wait, pan-dar?” Hunk stops. “Pan...scan? You know what I’m trying to say. She’s not straight. Also, did you see her tattoos? Plus she was wearing a muscle tee-”

Romelle holds up a hand to stop him. “Alright, alright. I just don’t want to get my hopes up. Also, she left so quickly- I highly doubt she had any time to even _look_ at me.”

“Aww, come on, Romelle,” Shay pleads with her. The blonde just shakes her head, frustration starting to make her eyes water.

“I don’t wanna talk about her anymore, okay?” She finally snaps. Shay’s eyes widen and Romelle feels a pang of guilt, but escapes to go snip off the ends of the Devil’s Ivy plants near the front windows before she can say anything else.

She feels bad leaving her friends hanging and even worse for being rude to Shay, but the anxiety that comes with talking about relationships starts gnawing at her insides and makes it hard for her to care. In the reflection in the window, she can see Pidge leaning towards Shay and Hunk and saying something quietly. Most likely making up some excuse for Romelle’s sudden shift in mood and trying to draw their attention elsewhere. They’re a good friend like that.

Romelle isn’t entirely sure why the woman was in such a rush- she said she was busy, yes, but she wasn’t even in the store for five minutes. Had Romelle done something wrong? Or are these just the nerves that come with having a sudden crush?

Whatever. She’d most likely never see her again, anyway.

Romelle plucks a petal from a Peony and tosses it to the ground.

-✧❀✧-

The day continues on like the stranger hadn’t existed in the first place. They sell flowers, Pidge makes a coffee run, Hunk once again almost murders a cactus (“ _it’s thirsty, guys!_ ”) and Shay weaves together a Dandelion crown for a little boy. And then for someone else. And someone else. And now crowns are selling for 15-ish bucks a pop depending on the type of flowers they’re made of, though she’s been handing out free ones made from Daisies to the kids.

 

When closing time comes around, Romelle is always the last one in the store. She stays for hours after the doors close sketching out bridesmaid bouquets for wedding commissions, snipping the tips off Bonsai seeds, and picking out treats to bring home to Alice the bunny. This particular afternoon she’s stuffing her bag with Chamomile when her phone buzzes, and unsurprisingly, it’s Pidge’s name that lights up the screen.

**Pidge Holt:** hey ro I’m sorry abt earlier I should not have pushed you to talk to that girl like that  
**Pidge Holt:** I know u get weird about romance usually

Romelle sighs, knowing her friend only had her best interests in mind.

**Me:** It’s ok, Pidgey  
**Me:** I get it. U wanted to help.

**Pidge Holt:** ya but I was kind of a bitch sooooo  
**Pidge Holt:** you okay though?? we got kinda worried when you ran off

**Me:** Yes I’m fine dw  
**Me:** It just freaked me out when the girl ran in and out so fast. I thought I freaked her out somehow and it freaked ME out

**Pidge Holt:** nah u didn’t im pretty sure she was just in a huge rush  
**Pidge Holt:** Shay wasn’t kidding about the heart eyes tho I swear

**Me:** Hmmmmmppph  
**Me:** lies and slander.  
**Me:** Why do I freak out over every girl I meet though? It’s so fucking frustrating!!!!!

**Pidge Holt:** uhhhhh it’s called ur a gay dork who wants love and that’s valid

**Me:** Hush small one if anyone’s a dork its you

**Pidge Holt:** ok fair  
**Pidge Holt:** HEY I’M NOT SMALL TF

Romelle shuts the lights off in the flower shop and steps out into the cool, late-afternoon almost-evening air, then finally locks the front door with the key Shay had painted a tiny cactus on.

**Pidge Holt:** hey ro  
**Pidge Holt:** ro  
**Pidge Holt:** ro

**Me:** Why do u always call me Ro over text

**Pidge Holt:** bc ur name is long and i don’t feel like typing all of those letters  
**Pidge Holt:** but nyways  
**Pidge Holt:** if ur gonna mope you should let me spend the night at ur place and shower u in platonic affection

**Me:** That sounds great ngl but I want to sleep and you’ll just keep me up with ur spicy salts

**Pidge Holt:** my what???  
**Pidge Holt:** oh  
**Pidge Holt:** valid.

There’s a pause, and then-

**Pidge Holt:** i just don’t like leaving u alone when ur sad u know  
**Pidge Holt:** because being alone is literally the worst  
**Pidge Holt:** and you’re stressed enough already

**Me:** I’m fineeeeeee

**Pidge Holt:** no you’re nottttt

Romelle decides she’d rather watch the sky turn dark than be glued to her phone, so she shoves it back into her pocket and lets her gaze get lost in twisting shades of orange and purple.

Growing up, she was never one of those kids who was super into space. She never stuck glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling or made cardboard box spaceships. Romelle finds the night sky pretty, sure, but she has little interest in which suns are where or what patterns and pictures they make. Without a telescope, stars are just pinpricks of light in an inky void. Beautiful, but meaningless. Just there.

She thinks of this as she walks through town back to her apartment. There’s no one out at this time of day, and it’s peaceful. Romelle likes where she lives. Altea is small, quiet, and intimate; hardly anyone is a stranger. It’s a relatively safe place, but she still keeps keys between her fingers as she walks home (which is more out of the paranoia that comes with being a woman than any actual danger).

There’s an upward shift in her mood when Romelle steps back into her apartment and is immediately met with a bunny at her feet. Alice has a history of freaking out when Romelle returns from work, hopping around her mama’s feet and chasing her shoelaces, and more often than not, getting tripped on. Shay swears on her life that Alice is a puppy trapped in a rabbit’s body, and it doesn’t seem far-fetched.

“Mama’s home, up you go,” Romelle says, scooping up the bunny and cradling her against her chest much like you would a baby. She pecks her head, then notices something odd, and sniffs. “Why do you smell like perfume? I swear to God- if I find out you got into anything you weren’t supposed to while I was gone, I’m punting you off the balcony, got it? No mercy.”

Alice’s nose twitches. She seems to understand.

They’re both calmer once the sun is finally down. Romelle’s got her diffuser going and something with a pleasant smell from LUSH on her face, as well as freshly-showered hair and a warm towel wrapped around her shoulders. The room is silent save for Hayley Kiyoko’s voice softly emitting from a speaker, and the cute little noises Alice is making as she quietly munches on Chamomile at Romelle’s feet. 

She’s hanging upside-down off the side of her bed and scrolling idly through her phone, trying to ignore the feeling of blood rushing to her head. Usually social media serves as a great distraction when she can’t stop thinking about, say, a really pretty girl who she worries she might have scared the daylights out of earlier that day, but Romelle can’t get her laugh or her smile out of her mind.

“Alice,” she says, sitting up on the bed. The bunny freezes, peering up at Romelle curiously. “Do you think I’ll see the woman at the store ever again?”

Alice doesn’t respond, of course, just goes back to chewing on the flowers without a care in the world. In that moment, Romelle thinks it would be quite nice to be a bunny. 

The girl faceplants into her pillow. “I mean, I know like everyone in Altea. I’m a social butterfly. I at least _recognize_ everyone. If I don’t know names I know faces,” she explains, voice muffled by false silk. “But there is _no_ way I would have forgotten this woman. How often do you see a black woman with white hair and blue eyes? Never! I mean, it could very well have been a wig and contacts, probably was, but she had tons of tattoos, and then the fact that she was mindblowingly _gorgeous-_ I would remember her, Alice. She has to be from out of town, or something. Or maybe I just don’t go outside as much as I think I do. Am I overthinking this? I’m probably overthinking this. My question is, did I fuck up my only chance to say something?”

Romelle turns her head so her cheek is smushed against the pillow and she’s facing Alice again. She looks at the girl, ears perking up, before hopping forward and beginning to lick at her nose.

“Is this your way of telling me not to worry? Because if so, it’s working,” she says, rolling her eyes. Romelle reaches over and pulls the bunny close to her chest, closing her eyes.

She drifts off at some point in the next few minutes without remembering to turn off the lamp at her bedside. Slowly, she falls into a field of paper flowers, and looks up into the eyes of a beautiful stranger who’s extending a hand for her to hold.

The next morning, she’ll remember nothing of her dream except the colors pink and blue.

-✧❀✧-

To Romelle’s surprise, the woman is back the next day.

She comes in at around 3 pm, which is when Romelle usually gives herself a few minutes to get a drink from a nearby coffee shop and waste time on her phone. It’s pretty much the only break she gets, something that upsets Shay given that Romelle works for herself and could allow herself more time to relax if she wanted.

_”You need more rest! You’ll get sick and stressed out!”_ she says, the mom friend that she is. It’s true that Romelle overworks herself, yes, but she doesn’t dislike her job. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. She likes the smell of flowers and unlocking the door at eight thirty every morning and misting the Peace Lilies on the odd-numbered days of the month. Romelle has a routine. While the mystery woman has shifted that routine slightly, her presence is not unwelcome.

They make eye contact, and she smiles somewhat nervously at Romelle, seemingly hesitant to walk any further into the store. Biting her lip, she makes her way over to the front counter, and as soon as the two girls are face to face Romelle cocks her head slightly. 

“Is everything alright?” She asks, her concern clear.

The woman laughs awkwardly, dropping her gaze from Romelle’s. “She, uh. She was allergic.” She wrings her hands together as she speaks, tracing her thumb over a small tattoo on the opposite hand. 

Romelle’s jaw drops. She messed up, and she messed up _bad_.

“You're fucking ki-” She almost starts shouting, but stops herself. Romelle clears her throat, trying not to panic. “I mean. She was? Was she alright?”

“No, I am not fucking kidding! I'm assuming it was the pollen because the second she leaned down and smelled the flowers, she started sneezing,” the woman explained. “And then her eyes turned red, and oh, it was awful!”

Romelle is shaking her head, staring at the other incredulously. She can’t think of any way the woman’s date could have gone worse, and it was her fault. “I am _so_ sorry,” she starts. “I had no idea that-”

“No, no!” The woman holds up a hand to stop Romelle from going on any further. “You mustn’t be sorry. You just said it yourself, you had no idea anything would happen. There is no way you could have. It’s alright.”

Romelle bites her lip. “Still, though… Could I refund you? You overpaid me, anyway.”

“Nope. You aren’t doing anything.” The stranger waves her concern away. “But, anyway. I came to buy apology flowers.”

Apology flowers. “Uh, for the girl?” Romelle asks, trying to piece together what’s going on in her head. The woman laughs sharply and shakes her head. 

“No no no no, definitely not. She doesn't deserve them,” she says. “She did deserve the runny makeup and sneezing, however. It was very amusing, I hate to admit.”

Romelle still can't figure this woman out.

Deciding she doesn’t want to even _try_ making sense of the situation, she just shrugs and moves on. “Alright. Were you looking for anything specific? Or would you like help choosing again?”

She stops to think for a moment, and Romelle can’t help but think that the pout she makes is kind of cute. “Uh… those blue flowers you showed me yesterday with the peculiar smell,” she says. “What were they called?”

“Blue Violets,” Romelle reminds her. Her eyes light up.

“Yes! Those. I’ll take some of those,” she says excitedly, pulling out her wallet and digging around for some cash. “Sorry, I am in a hurry. I have an _extremely_ hectic work schedule. I probably have- oh, god, I have fifteen minutes to drop these off and get ready to work again.”

Romelle grins, walking around the counter to join her in front of the display. “Believe me, I understand. Florists’ schedules are actually pretty chaotic since flowers don’t stay fresh for very long. Weddings are nightmares- I design floral arrangements for months, and we have to get them all made in days. You wouldn’t think it would take eight months of planning, but it does.”

Watching her reaction is fun for Romelle- it always is when she tells people about her job, and begin to realize that being a florist is more than just selling Roses on mother’s day. Her eyes widen, and Romelle can’t help but snort. “What- eight months?! For flowers?” She asks, staring at the other incredulously.

Romelle nods, smiling brightly. “Yup. We work for hours on mother’s day especially, and hire a lot of temporary staff.” She reaches for a bouquet of the blue flowers, carefully pulling them up out of the jar they’re sitting in, and at the same time she goes to hand them over the woman reaches for them, and their hands collide. Romelle jerks back, purely out of reflex, and can only pray that her cheeks aren’t extremely red (they are at least a little bit, she can feel it.) The woman seems surprised as well, looking up at Romelle in surprise for a moment before a sweet smile plays onto her face and Romelle _knows_ she is a gay tomato.

She takes the flowers gingerly, seeming not to mind when their hands brush. “Thank you, I do appreciate the help,” she says.

Romelle is about to implode. “Aha, yeah, any time you want flower help, you can. Um. You know where I am. I mean, where the store is. Any of us could help you, obviously.”

“Of course, I do think I will be coming back,” she replies, and Romelle’s heart flutters. “Those Juniberries are so lovely- I can see myself buying fresh ones every time they begin to wilt. I have them sitting by my bedside and- oh, shit! I’ve been here for too long.” She quickly takes her phone out to confirm her suspicions and nods. “Yes, I need to be going. Here-” The woman hands Romelle a wad of cash- something that Romelle admittedly would have forgotten about otherwise -and tucks the flowers under her arm.

“I’ll see you!” She says, flashing Romelle a grin as she walks out the door, leaving her an awestruck, blushing mess. She just stands there, feeling so warm and fluttery that she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

Meanwhile, Hunk and Pidge watch from the corner nearby. “How long do you think it’ll take them to figure it out? That they like each other?” He asks, leaning down so he can whisper in Pidge’s ear. They just shake their head.

“At this rate? They won’t.” Pidge deadpans, tipping their water bottle back and taking a long swig of whatever is inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god that was gay
> 
> i don't know if anyone caught the lis reference?? alice is named after kate's bunny. fun fact when i need names or background characters i just rip names from somewhere else. 
> 
> also fun fact blue violets symbolize lesbian love (i'll just pretend i did that intentionally)

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading!! follow me on social media if u wanna.
> 
> { [tumblr](http://vallraiene.tumblr.com) | [instagram](http://instagram.com/vallraiene/) } 
> 
> and [momozerii's instagram!!!](http://instagram.com/momozerii/)


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